Why Not?
by MythicElf
Summary: "An escort? Who the hell recommends an escort to their brother?" A rather strange suggestion from Prussia leads Germany to fall way in over his head. GerUK, Human names, AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: my first Hetalia story is dedicated to my friends, Japan, Canada, France, and Hungary. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, because this story is the first, the characters may be a tad (extremely) OOC... Sorry.

~England

...

He should've known, really.

Gilbert was way too excited, like _too __excited_, it was worse than normal. He'd been hinting for months that he needed to get laid. Sure, he did, but seriously... An escort? Who the hell recommends an _escort_ to their _brother?_

With a sigh Ludwig Beilschmidt turned the business card over in his fingers. The background was the Union Jack, and it read _England_ in cursive font, above a phone number and address. This was really unnecessary, there was no reason he should do this... but if he didn't, he'd never hear the end of it.

_"Gott __verdammt_."

But he picked up his phone and dialed anyway.

Ludwig noticed two very important things when the phone was answered, just after the third ring, with, "England speaking." One, 'England' was a man. He'd been expecting a girl, just over the legal age, trying— and failing— to be sexy with a fake British accent. Two, he really was English, _legitimately_ English_,_ which brought him back to expectation number one—he didn't think he'd end up speaking to a real Englishman. _Sehr __gut._

"Good afternoon, I was hoping I could purchase your services?" Translation: I was hoping I could just screw you so my brother will shut up?

"Excellent," he could almost hear a _smile_ over the phone, "When do you want me?"

Jesus, he didn't waste any time, did he. "Tomorrow night, ten thirty."

There was a pause, as if he was writing it down or checking his schedule… Weird that he'd think of that first. "And where?"

He gave the escort his address and confirmed the appointment, leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Gilbert should've been coming home soon; he may have ten, maybe twenty minutes before—

"Brother, I'm home!"

_Scheiβe._

"_Hallo, _Gilbert."

"_Guten A__bend,_ Ludwig. How was your day?"

"Like you care."

"Of course I don't."

The ass. "Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

"No, should I be?" he took of his hat and tossed it across the living room before falling back on the couch. (When the dogs caught it and chewed it up, he'd be mad; Ludwig, however, will just laugh at him.)

"Yes."

"Why?"

Pause. Gilbert turned to look at him, red eyes pensive and curious.

"You bought the whore, didn't you?"

They stared at each other for what could've been days, red boring into blue and blue pushing right back, but eventually Ludwig got tired of it. "Fine. I bought the damn whore."

"Right." He turned to lay on his back, arms folded behind his head. "Don't worry about me; I won't be there to hear you fuck him senseless."

_Ugh,_ he could feel the migraine coming. "What is _wrong _with you…"

"Many, many things, brother." He glanced over at Ludwig, "But you love me anyway."

"I'm glad you think so."

…

A/N: I really have to get out of this habit of writing short introductory chapters…. But, anyway, what do you think so far? I'd love to read your reviews

_Gott __verdammt_—God dammit

_Sehr __gut_—very well

_Schie__β__e_—shit

_Hallo__—_hello

_Guten __abend__—_good evening


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: omg, that was really fast! Thanks for the love!

There will be some of Arthur's POV eventually, of course, but I'm really feeling Lud right now. And say hello to the dogs :)

~England

...

It was 10:10, and Ludwig was still running around, meticulously cleaning the house. Honestly, Gilbert was such a slob... It was probably unnecessary, but he cared very much about what people thought of him and he'd be damned if he let an escort think he had a messy house. So all the little random items around the house were put away, Gilbert's poor mauled hat picked up from under Claus' long nose, and he had actually begun to look for the duster when a car door shut.

There was a green Mini Cooper in his driveway.

He had three dogs - Claus, the German Shepherd; Kurt, the dalmatian; and a golden lab named Raven. (Gilbert named her. Enough said.) When the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the house, Claus and Kurt made a beeline for the door, barking loud as can be and snuffling at the little line of space at the bottom.

"Claus, Kurt, _beenden __sie __es_." he called, walking up to the door, "_Und __verschieben __sie __ihre __ärsche_."

The dogs spared one last glance at the door before trotting away, joining Raven at the foot of the stairs. She never really did care about being a guard dog. Ludwig brushed his hands on his pants and reached for the doorknob. "Good evening."

_Jesus,_ his eyebrows were _gigantic_. They were barely hidden under shaggy blond bangs and framed bright emerald eyes. Thin lips spread into a smile as he entered the house. "Is this a booty call or a date?"

"Neither." Ludwig closed the door and followed the escort further inside, observing his lean musculature and long gait. His T-shirt was white and snug, dark jeans hanging low around slim hips, and black tennis covered his small feet.

England turned to face him, curiosity in his eyes. "So why am I here?"

"Because my brother insists that I need to get laid."

The smaller man gave him a once-over, head to toe and back, before saying, "Indeed."

"But," Ludwig went on, clearing his throat, "Since you're here and Gilbert is an ass, I might as well use you."

It sounded a little better in his head. England smirked. "What do you want?"

"Blow me." and he sat down on the couch, effectively ending the conversation.

The Englishman, however, didn't follow; he just looked at Ludwig from his place right before the couch. "Fifty."

"Right." he got up to reach the wallet in his back pocket, gave England two twenties and a ten, and sat back on the couch. He put the bills in his own back pocket and kneeled between the German's knees.

Just the sight of England opening his belt and pants began a warm stir in Ludwig's loins, and he helped the escort pull them down by lifting his hips up from the couch. Once they were around his ankles he raised a hand to the slight bulge in his boxers; Ludwig let out a soft breath, mouth opening just a little. The blond head leaned over his groin to press his mouth to it, lips soft against the quickly hardening flesh, and a soft blush rose to his cheeks.

"_Heilige..._" he began breathlessly, forgetting English entirely, "_Nur __saugen __sie __bereits."_

Of course, England probably had no idea what that meant, but he began to pull the German's boxers down, and observed the large member with bright, intrigued eyes. A thick drop of precum was beginning to form at the very tip of Ludwig's head, and a vein at the bottom of the shaft pulsed along with his heartbeat. He pressed a kiss to it, smiling at the soft _thump __thump __thump _under his lips, and when the taller man squirmed insistently, he took it into his mouth.

Ludwig sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, threading his long fingers into England's soft hair. His immediate instinct was to grab the whore's head and thrust like there was no tomorrow, but he clenched his teeth and made himself stay still. Just... _Christus_, his tongue... it was hard competition. His nails scraped over England's scalp as the whore laved at him with such enthusiasm that he kind of wondered how long the shorter man had been doing this. He didn't have long to think about it, though, since his brain totally blanked as England pulled back, sucking hard and swirling his tongue over the head before sliding back down.

"_England,"_ his voice cracked over the name, fist curling in the blond hair. He felt that familiar heat curling in his belly, and a part of him was enraged that this _whore _could make him fall apart so quickly, but the rest of him shut it away.

And then England was sinking lower.

Taking him deeper.

Relaxing his throat around the thick member.

And he _swallowed._

"_Jesus,_" Ludwig growled, hips bucking up against the Brit's lips. England didn't seem to mind at all; he just pulled back, bobbing his head with a slow rhythm that coaxed his hips to follow. It wasn't the fast, brutal skull-fucking that he'd imagined, but that coil beneath his navel was tightening anyhow, hips lifting as his cock slid smoothly into that hot mouth...

_Scheiße._

He pulled on England's hair a little, trying to get him to pull off, but he didn't understand, he just moaned as his hair was pulled. Ludwig swore he could feel those vibrations in his _brain_; he growled out something low, eyes squeezing shut, fingers tightening in the escort's hair, pressing England's head down onto his cock as he came down his throat.

"Fuck," he sighed, leaning his head back on the couch. He probably shouldn't have been impressed with how dexterously England pulled back, licking around the shaft as it fell from his lips, but he was; his throat was probably sore. Or maybe it was because all Ludwig could do was sag on the couch and try to breathe.

"Right," he smiled, pulling Ludwig's boxers and pants back up around his thighs, leaving them there for whenever he felt like getting up.

Ludwig ran a hand through his hair before pulling up the clothing around his thighs to its proper place. He wanted to say something - "thank you" was waiting at the tip of his tongue - but that couldn't be right. What were you supposed to say after getting a blowjob that you paid for?

But by the time he'd closed his eyes, sighed, and opened them, the front door had just closed.

Well, shit.

...

"West. _West_... _**Ludw-!**_"

Gilbert was cut off when Ludwig grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him down, closer to the German. "_Halt __die __klappe,"_he growled, eyes still closed, and turned over on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow.

"You know what, fuck you. When you get fired and then bitch about it for days, don't say I didn't try to help you."

He glanced over at his clock, "I don't have to go in until noon, go _away_!"

Gilbert just stared at his brother, index and thumb grasping his chin. "Wow, you really gave it to him, didn't you? You're never so touchy."

"I'm not touchy, I'm _tired,_ and I refuse to talk to you about that."

The albino walked around the bed and sat on the other side. "C'mon, West, you gotta tell."

"No, I really don't." he opened one eye, finding it a sufficient-enough glare.

"_Please,"_ he begged, pulling the puppy-dog look that he should've known doesn't work.

"_Nein."_

Finally he begins to look a little pissed off, like this is important information that he _needs_ to know. "It's the first time you've boned somebody in months, years, even. How _can't _you tell?"

It had only been a year and a half, maybe two. Ludwig acknowledged that with a frown, and turned his head away from his brother. "I didn't 'bone' him." he muttered the words, secretly hoping that Gilbert hadn't heard.

"Why the hell not?"

Damn.

"Because I didn't feel like it." Because I didn't want you telling me what to do.

"You at least got _something,_ right?"

Ludwig sighed, sat up, turned to face his brother. Donned a completely straight face and said, "He gives fantastic blowjobs."

Gilbert stared at him for a few moments, slight shock in those red eyes, before he grinned like an idiot and said, "You're welcome."

"I never thanked you."

"You should."

Ludwig pretended to think about it. "Eh... no."

"For the record, I actually never had him before. So he's free of the awesome-disease, in case you were concerned."

"_Danke_," Ludwig said, figuring if he was going to be awake then he might as well get his ass up. Matter of fact... "You woke me up _three __hours __early._ Make me breakfast."

...

A/N: pfft, another shortie... Sorry, but I just wanted to end here, made sense to me...?

_beenden __sie __es:_quit it

_Und __verschieben __sie __ihre __ärsche:_and move your asses

_Heilige:_ holy

_Nur __saugen __sie __bereits:_just suck it already (^/^)

_Christus:_Christ

_Scheiße:_ shit

_Halt __die __klappe:_ shut up

_Nein:_ no

_Danke:_ thanks

Fun fact: Jesus and England are the same in English and German. Just saying. :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: merry Christmas, loves! Hope you're enjoying the holidays as much as I :) spend time with your families and friends and loved ones! I, for one, look forward to spending mine with a certain northern European nation~

~England

...

Ludwig really hates his boss.

He's a short-sighted, narrow minded old man who made a habit of telling Ludwig to do things he was going to do anyway, then complaining about his lack of initiative. He was always yelling about the most idiotic things, and using these wild hand gestures. Ludwig made a joking comment about his little toy soldier mustache once, back before he knew better.

He got fired.

Then rehired, the next day.

What could he say, he was a badass mechanic.

The garage where he worked was probably half an hour's worth of a walk away, so he drove. It was a tiny little thing, a little office building connected to the two-car garage where the cars were actually repaired. Only he and a girl named Monika really worked there; he did the more manual stuff, she worked the register and ran the books.

At the moment he was on his back underneath a '98 Civic. There was a smudge of oil on his face and his glasses were crooked but he didn't have sufficient space to fix them. He was too busy to really care about it, anyway; he was almost finished with the -

"Ludwig, _what are_ you doing?"

Ludwig looked down across the floor, saw brown loafers and the ends of dark green slacks. He pushed himself from under the car. "Giving Mrs. Anderson's car an oil change."

"Did she pay for one?"

"No."

"Then _why_ are you doing it?"

Ludwig had a distant urge to throw his wrench at the man's forehead. "Because she's been coming here for years, and it's almost time for her to get one. I figured I might as well."

He turned a little red in the face; Ludwig thought it might be good to end the conversation before his boss blew a fuse. "Goodbye, Adolf."

The manager stomped off, muttering indistinctly, and Ludwig and his little board rolled back under the car.

...

"... _What?"_

"_Goodbye_," Gilbert repeated, sounding either desperate or a tad pissed off. "I met this guy named Roderich, he's coming here tonight."

"And?"

"_And_ I left the house for you, now it's your turn."

That's how Ludwig ended up in a shabby little motel on the other side of town. The neon outside the window was flashing obnoxiously, but he wouldn't dare pull the pillow up over his face. He really should've gone to a real hotel, damn his frugality. He sort of wished he'd at least chosen a motel with a mini bar; if he was going to be this miserable he might as well be drunk.

There were footsteps across the walkway from his room. He glanced over at the red numbers on the clock under the lamp; 1:47 am. A voice rang in the hall - a Spanish accent, but not charming, more like a cowboy from a '60's cartoon.

"_Vamanos_, darling, come here..." there was indistinct shuffling, a soft bang as the door in the room next to his bumped into the wall they shared. "How much for you like this?" Ah, a prostitute. _Wunderbar._ A soft, low voice, lilting with an accent that Ludwig wasn't trying hard enough to hear. A sigh, then, "Fine. Suck." _Gott,_ no! He turned over on his belly, arms crossed beneath his chin, and buried his face into the warm crevice of his elbow.

Sleep.

Now.

_Please._

Who was he kidding, there was no way he was going to sleep with moans seeping through the thin walls; it was like he was in the _room _with them. He needed beer - real beer, not that fake Budweiser stuff. When he got home in the morning, Gilbert was going to _die._ A steady stream of words was coming through the wall, a breathless commentary of 'yes' and 'faster' and 'fuck' mixed in among the little sighs and gasps. It was a long time before the interjections grew in volume, becoming more growls than anything else, and ended in a low "_Fuck_!" Ludwig sighed in relief, relaxing a little into the mattress.

And then, "Swallow."

Ludwig didn't think he'd ever seriously contemplated suicide before then. Of course, cheap motel room equals prostitutes and loud sex. He really should've thought this through first. But since he was going to be awake, he might as well be _awake;_ he got out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants, fixed his hair, flicked on the TV. Come to think of it, there was a soda machine down the hall... He was halfway out the door when he heard it.

"I don't think that was really worth three hundred," the voice had gotten lower, accent thicker, making the words sound a little like a threat. "What am I to do with you?"

"Absolutely nothing that you aren't paying for," the response was stubborn and confident and British and...

It was England.

_Kleine welt._

All he could do was stand there and listen; he wasn't usually nosy, but the fact that it was England piqued his interest.

"Watch your mouth," the man hissed, "You wouldn't want to lose a few _dientes_ because you think you're doing me a favor, _no_?"

And Ludwig felt like he had to step in, because even though he had only just met the escort (on non-social terms, at that), this was just uncalled for.

The man that's a tad taller than England, same build but a tad more muscle, had the slightly smaller man backed up against the wall, still on his knees.

"Can I help you?" the man asks, voice harsh. England looked over at him with a mixture of surprise and relief in his eyes.

"You? No," he glanced past the man at England, "However, I have business with _him_." His voice may have been a little harder than he intended.

"Ah, I see," he smiled, "No need for the hostilities, _amigo_, we're all johns here, _sí?"_

_"_Right." Ludwig just stood there as he fìxed his pants and walked down the hall, disappearing around the corner. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you," England smiled a little, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "He may be an annoying prat, but he's a client. And, fortunately, I choose my prices."

Ludwig nodded, paused for a moment to think about what to do next. "Do you want to... come in, for a little while?" England's huge brows crinkled in confusion, or was that suspicion? "_Nein, nein, _not for that. My brother apprehended my house for the night, and I could use some company."

But half an hour, a swig of Listerine, and a little bit of flirting (all on England's part, he'd swear it if asked about it) later Ludwig was sitting up, back against the headboard as the Englishman sucked him enthusiastically. He came hard, hissing out the escort's name as his fingers tightened in his hair, and reached into his wallet to give up another fifty dollars.

England pocketed one of the twenties and a ten, handed Ludwig back the rest; "You did me a favor, I believe in returning them."

Ludwig smiled. "What's your name, really?"

"Arthur, Arthur Kirkland."

"Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"Nice to meet you." his smile was blinding, eyes crinkling a little at the edges, and they shook hands as if meeting for the first time.

Ludwig slept like the dead after that.

...

When he woke up later that morning, hair in his eyes and a trail of dried drool trailing up the side of his face, it took him a minute to gather himself. Motel... right. Spanish. Thin walls. _Wunderbar._ Awake. Soda, England... Arthur.

His name was Arthur.

Somehow, he felt a little closer to the man for knowing his name.

But he couldn't dwell on that now, he had to get up and murder Gilbert. _Brutally._

...

A/N: ^L^ I enjoyed this. A lot. Monika is Fem!Germany, of course, and Adolf = Hitler. That's why I have both the Germany's working there; makes sense, _j__a?_

_Vamanos:_ c'mon (more or less.)

_Wunderbar:_ wonderful

_Gott:_ God

_Kleine welt:_ small world

_Dientes:_ teeth

_Amigo:_ friend

_Sí:_ yes

_Nein:_ no


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Agh, sorry I took so long, I was updating other stories... So, here we are :)

~England

...

"Oh, for the love of Christ..."

Arthur turned the key again, only to be met with the pathetic rumble of the engine. He tried it again, and again, and again, and had gone from frowning in silence to pleading to bargaining to getting out and cursing the car for not coming on. The area under the hood was completely uncharted territory to him, and he just stared at it, as if his glare could will it to life.

It didn't work.

When his phone rang he nearly threw it up the driveway.

"Hello, Francis," he answered boredly, not even needing to look at the caller ID; the man was a regular, he called every week at around the same time.

"_Bonjour, Angleterre,_" the Frenchman greeted, saying England's name in his native tongue. "We are on for this evening, _oui?_"

"I'm sorry, love, I can't come out," he apologized sweetly, playing hard on his accent because he knew Francis loved it. "My car has finally decided to die on me."

There was a chuckle over the line. "Your car is only a year old, or so. Look what you've done to it. But, it is no matter, I'll come to you."

"Alright, then, I'll see you tonight - the usual?"

"The usual," he agreed. "_Au revoir, mon chere_."

Arthur put the phone in his back pocket, took one last look at the inner workings of his Mini Cooper. In a sudden burst of childish dejection he slammed the hood down and turned away, crossing his arms and grumbling. He really didn't have the time or money for a mechanic, the rent would be due soon, he had to pay utilities, not to mention he was actually on his way to the grocery store before the car shut down on him...

No matter. He could walk. There was a small, organic market a few blocks down, anyway.

On he went.

...

Two hours later he found himself curled in a blanket, quite enjoying his plate of scones and tea as he watched a rerun of MI-5. There was a slight ache in his hips, but not the sharp twinge he'd grown used to; on his way to the market, a few blocks had quickly turned into a few dozen and he was forced to remember that everything was shorter via car. Walking all that distance was far longer than he was accustomed to, the joints and muscles in his lower half reminded him of that with every movement.

He probably should've been working on his book before the calls started up for the night; it was already after five, it wouldn't be long. He had to admit, a major positive of being an escort was the fact that he could get up whenever, as long as he was ready to work come sundown. Most of his work was done at night, anyway. (I digress.) He was well on his way through a mystical novel about 17th-century pirate with supernatural powers one wouldn't believe, whose crew was loyal to the end - besides James, but that was a chapter long done - whose lifetime saw empires come and go, before he settled down in northern England for a comfortable existence. To anyone else, he'd bashfully dismiss it as a ridiculous self-insertion written in his spare moments or boredom, but he was secretly very proud of it. It had been years in coming, and now it was nearly finished.

The high-pitched trill of his phone ringing snapped his attention away from the television. A glance at the caller ID revealed nothing much, he didn't recognize the number, and he pressed it to his ear with the soft greeting of, "England speaking."

"_Hallo_, Arthur."

Arthur? Very few people called him by his name... wait. "Ludwig?"

"_Ja_, it's me. Are you free tonight?"

Arthur leaned back, stretching out on the couch. "I have an appointment in a half hour, but after that, I'm all yours."

Ludwig chuckled. "The life of an escort isn't as demanding as I thought."

"It's a Tuesday, Lud, nothing much gets done until the weekend."

"Lud?"

"If you don't like that, I'll call you Thumper," he couldn't keep the smile off his face when he said that.

Ludwig couldn't hold one back, either. "If you don't have anything nice to say..."

They realized they were flirting at the same moment, and fell silent. The quiet was uncomfortable, awkward, and Ludwig cleared his throat in an attempt to cut through it. "So... um, I'll come to you, if that's okay?"

"Sure, yes, uh... eight o'clock?"

"_Ja_, that's good."

Arthur gave him his address, then ended with, "See you then."

Ludwig clicked off, put his phone in his pocket, and turned around to get a face full of Gilbert's grin.

"Gott, _bruder_, don't _do _that," he huffed after he got over the shock, pushed his brother back.

"Who was _that_?" Gilbert asked, completely disregarding Ludwig's comment. He sounded much more like a nosy little sister than an older brother.

"Nobody, does it matter?" he began walking away, hoping to end this before it started.

"Of course it does!" Gilbert followed him, "You were flirting like a teen with a crush."

"I most certainly do not have a crush!" the blonde roared, turning to his brother with his hands planted firmly on his hips, despite the warmth tingling below his cheekbones.

"You're blushing like a little kid, kesese~"

"I-I am _not_," _scheiße_, it was getting worse... "And I'm not having this conversation."

He started walking away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, but only made it a few steps before Gilbert gave him pause again, "_Westen_, _nicht verletzt werden_."

"Why would I?" Ludwig demanded, shocked by the sudden display of brotherly affection.

"I _know _you, _dummkopf_," he deadpanned the sentence, raising his brow and tipping his head forward. "Don't get too attached. I don't even know why I'm telling you this, you're gonna do it anyway."

"I don't know why you're telling me this, because it wasn't like that." he gave up trying to get away from Gilbert, instead went to the fridge. "I'm not going to get attached because there was no one to get attached to. End of story."

Gilbert muttered something along the lines of, "Keep telling yourself that."

"... Gilbert."

"_Ja_?"

"Did you drink all the beer?"

"... Maybe."

He didn't have time to duck before a roll of paper towels smacked him in the back of the head.

...

Arthur was literally just out of the shower - as in, wet-hair, towel-around-the-waist, water-still-on-his-back just out - when the doorbell rang.

He didn't even know he'd taken so long, but a glance at the clock on the wall revealed that, indeed, it was 8:02. It made sense, though; whenever he had an appointment with Francis he felt the need to cleanse himself of the man's presence. He may have hated Antonio as a client, but he disliked Francis as a person.

But this was Ludwig at the door; he actually liked the blonde, from what he'd seen so far. He sort of wanted to see more of him. So when he opened the front door he couldn't help but smile at the little grin that spread across Ludwig's face because he was in nothing but a towel.

"You didn't forget about me, did you?" the German remarked with a smirk, hands resting in the pockets of his jacket (which he really didn't need because it must've been at least 60 degrees outside).

"Of course not, love, I just lost track of the time," his tone was half-apologetic, half-amused as he let Ludwig into his house. The taller blonde stepped out of his tennis and followed England farther into the room, where he did all his 'work'. It was pretty mundane, just a living room to anyone who would see it, but it held much more sentimental value to him. He liked to think that there was a barrier in these walls, one that kept _England_ and _Arthur_ separate, that made sure the two would never meet.

"So, what's the order of the day?" he asked casually, forgetting that what he was wearing was a towel as he hooked his thumbs into its edges.

Ludwig actually looked a tad pensive, as if he hadn't thought about what he actually _wanted_ from Arthur before he got there. "… Just sex, I suppose. If you don't mind."

He almost laughed as he placed his hands on his hips. "And why on earth would I mind? I do get paid to do this, you know."

"_Ja, ja_, I know," he actually _did_ laugh, "It just came out like that."

"Naturally polite, how cute," Arthur teased, unable to remove the smile from his face, "Well, I must apologize – because I thought I had more time than I actually did, I never really got around to preparing myself..."

"Just bring lube." with a quick nod he went back up the stairs, to retrieve the bottle and a condom from the bathroom, and laughed aloud when the German called after him, "And leave the towel!"

By the time he came back down the stairs Ludwig had gotten more comfortable; his jacket lay on the other end of the couch, revealing his plain black tee, and he sat with his knees spread wide. He tossed the bottle of lube over at the other man, and there was a little bit of a grin on the German's face at the sight of Arthur's stark naked body.

"_Hier,"_ Ludwig smiled, patting his thigh to emphasize his point because he doubted that England spoke German. The Brit approached him, straddled his hips with his knees digging into the cushions of the couch on either side of those green-cargo-clad thighs. The blunt tip of a finger traced the crease of his ass before the sound of the bottle opening broke the near-silent air.

Ludwig rubbed the slick liquid between his fingers to warm it up and pressed one to the puckered entrance of the escort. The rings of muscle took his index finger easily - his last appointment must've gone... well - but Arthur's breath hitched a little anyway. After a few gentle movements of the digit he braced himself against the top of the couch, and Ludwig smiled into the warm skin of the Brit's chest. Next came the middle finger, and England's inner muscles clenched a little before yielding to the intrusion stretching him open.

"Come on, _liebe_," the German murmured,"Make one of those sweet little noises for me."

"Make me," England replied softly, pressing his face into the top of Ludwig's head.

"_Sehr gut_," and he curled his fingers against a bundle of nerves deep inside the escort, who let out a soft purr of pleasure. "Mm, just like that..."

Arthur curled his toes, smiling into the German's hair as fresh sparks of pleasure ran up his spine. Ludwig's blunt fingers felt quite different from Francis' fleeting touches, and he definitely wasn't complaining. But this wasn't his purpose at the moment, he wasn't here just to kneel on the couch and get fingered, he was at work.

He dropped one hand to the buckle of Ludwig's pants, deft fingers tugging the zipper down even though he was blind. The warm flesh was slightly stiff in his hand, and the larger blond sighed into the smaller's chest when he began to stroke it slowly. A few years' worth of experience kicked in, and within the space of ten minutes the member had grown to its full height.

Throughout that ten minutes Ludwig had continued to prepare Arthur carefully, making sure that there would be a complete lack of discomfort for them both, but now that he had a full hard-on he was finding it difficult to keep his hips still. "Are you ready?" he asked, voice low and dark with lust.

Arthur's muscles clenched around his fingers briefly before he nodded, leaned over to grab the condom from the arm of the couch and hand it to the German. Ludwig ripped it open with his teeth (the escort found that a tad sexy, go figure) and rolled it onto his length, then shuffled lower on the couch so it stood proudly between Arthur's thighs.

"Ride."

England sat up, straightening his body out so he could reach down and align his and Ludwig's bodies. When he felt the hot tip of that cock press against his entrance he let go, bracing his hands on the German's shoulders before dropping down on him in one smooth motion.

"_Heilige scheiße,"_ Ludwig hissed, letting his head fall back as his member was encased in tight heat, sending one large spike of pleasure up his spine.

Arthur bit his lip, eyes falling shut as a moan rose in his throat. The larger man had done a good job preparing him, there was no pain whatsoever (that relieved him - some clients didn't even care) and he felt so _full_. He still sat for a moment, adapting to the feeling of that large cock penetrating him, and his hands curled against the other's shoulders.

"_... _Arthur?"

He opened his eyes at the slightly concerned tone in Ludwig's voice.

"A-Are you alright? It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, of course not, love," he couldn't _not_ smile, Ludwig was so cute.

Ludwig smiled back. "_Gut."_

So Arthur began to move, lifting up about halfway before dropping down again, and the sharp breath the German sucked in through clenched teeth was good enough motivation for him to repeat the action. He was still getting accustomed to the other's length, learning just how far to go on each upward movement. Ludwig's hands went to his waist, helping him work into the repetitive motion as he began to thrust up into England's body.

Suddenly Arthur stopped bouncing and rolled his hips down hard onto Ludwig's cock; the German groaned out a curse in his native language and leaned his head back to the top of the couch.

"Like that, don't you, Lud?" Arthur grinned, giving up the up-and-down entirely for grinding down against the other's crotch.

"Hush," he huffed, palms roaming up the escort's sides as he rutted up against Arthur's rolling hips. He could feel it now, that ball of heat accumulating down below his navel, like thick lava pooling at the base of a volcano, preparing to shoot up and out. He wrapped his arms around England's torso, pulling him closer and huffing against his chest as his thrusts came more erratically, more desperate, with the heat curling up his spine to the base of his skull...

Arthur craned his neck to whisper into Ludwig's ear, "You're going to come, Lud?"

"..._ I-Ich... Ja_," his voice was low, barely a breath, and all he could focus on was the fact that Arthur was breathing on his _ear._ The escort didn't know that his ears were his most sensitive spots.

"Go on, love," England encouraged with a slow, hard roll of his hips. Ludwig groaned, grinding up against him again; he seemed so close, but not quite... so he nipped at the shell of his ear.

"_Scheiße_!" the German hissed, hips bucking up into the Brit's body as he closed his eyes and came hard.

"Good boy." Arthur purred the words, pressed a kiss to the top of Ludwig's head and got down from his lap, moved to get rid of the condom.

The German sighed as that blur of pleasure receded, rubbed the sore shell of his ear, "You didn't finish."

"So?"

"That's cruel, don't you think?"

The shrug he got as a response was apathetic. Ludwig frowned. "Come here, you."

With a curious expression Arthur mounted the German again, straddling his naked lap. He probably should've expected the warm hand that wrapped itself around his hard, leaking member, but he moaned in surprised pleasure anyway. "Ludwig, you're wearing a... a black shirt..." the sentence was slightly broken, thanks to the quick strokes of the German's hand.

"Paint it white."

With a chuckle he gave up, surrendered his hips to that rapid rhythm, and before long he had pleasure running through his veins as well. He slumped forward with a soft "_nngh,_" boneless, exhausted.

"Thank you," he smiled down at Ludwig, eyes slightly glazed.

"_Kein Problem_," the German murmured, closed his pants. "How much?"

"One twenty," England sighed, got down from Ludwig's lap, stretched as the last bit of a buzz in his body faded.

After a brief dip into the pocket on his thigh, Ludwig counted out six twenties and handed them over (with a little snort at the splash of white on the stomach of his tee). He reached over to grab his jacket and stood up, ran a hand through his hair, "I guess I'll go now."

"Alright then," Arthur smiled, folded the bills carefully in his hand, "I'm glad you came, I'd love to see you again."

Ludwig had to smile back. "We'll see."

So he left the house, walked down the little landing to the driveway where his Audi was parked. He sat in the driver's seat and revved his baby to life, but couldn't drive off just yet...

"_Verdammt."_

He'd be damned if he proved Gilbert right.

With one last glance spared at the door he backed out and drove away.

...

_Bonjour, Angleterre:_ Hello, England

_oui:_yes

_Hallo: _hello

_Ja:_ yeah

_Gott:_ God

_Bruder:_ brother

_Scheiße:_ shit

_Westen, nicht verletzt werden:_ West, don't get hurt

_Dummkopf:_ idiot

_Hier:_ here

_Liebe:_ love

_Sehr gut:_ very well

_Heilige scheiße:_ holy shit

_Gut:_ good

_Ich:_ I

_Kein Problem:_ no problem

_Verdammt:_ dammit


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: gah, I'm sorry I took forever, but I've been Skyrimming, and it's hard to break away from that... I hope you guys enjoyed _Marked _:3

So, there's drunk!Iggs in this one... Watch me fuck it up. Hooray for failures! -_-

~England

...

There's something wrong with him.

Gilbert's positive of it.

Ludwig hadn't yelled at him when he woke him up, and he'd taken the dogs out for a long jog before work. When he got back, he told the red-eyed man how his boss was yelling all day about one thing or another, and didn't get all pissy about it. At all. He made dinner, legit _dinner - _käsespätzle, a dish of cheesy noodles and onions that Gilbert hadn't even seen since their father passed, with sauerkraut. And he was _humming_.

If there was one thing that never would ever change, it would be that Ludwig Beilschmidt does. Not. _Hum_. Ever. In life.

Somewhere, somebody's head exploded.

"West, are you... feeling alright?" he couldn't help but ask, eyebrows knotted with concern as his fork dove into a pile of sour cabbage.

"_Ja_, of course, why do you ask?" Lud looked up at him from his plate, blue eyes clear and content. He smiled a little, and inhaled a forkful of noodles.

It all finally clicked together.

"_Oh mein Gott_." Gilbert breathed it out the first time, then began to repeat the phrase, growing louder and quicker each time until it became a mushed-up shout that was barely articulate. Ludwig just looked at him when he jumped up, fork halfway to his mouth and one blonde brow arched sharply.

"_Was_?"

"You went _back _to him," the elder said, finger pointing to match his accusatory tone. "You went back to him yesterday, that's why you were on the phone flirting like a little girl and that's where you went last night and _oh mein Gott_, I was right, and you fucking _boned _him, I knew you were all fucking happy today for no damn reason, and I can't believe I let you go back because you'll get all addicted to him and if you think I'm gonna let you spend all your money on a goddamn hooker you're dead fucking wro -"

"_Gilbert_!"

He broke off abruptly, shutting his mouth around the word 'wrong,' and could only grin at the flush that shot across his brother's cheeks and ears.

Ludwig, however, was slightly mortified. If he has ever wondered where he got his tendency to rant when pushed past his limits, there was his answer. "First of all, _ja_, I went back. And I... _boned _him. Are you happy now?"

Gilbert sat back in his chair, a soft _kesese~ _following the shake of his shoulders. "You didn't really have to say it, but yep, I'm pretty damn pleased."

"_Gut_. Second, I'm not going to get addicted to him, or whatever you said, because that's the last time I'll see him. Again, happy?"

"Sure, why not. You gonna get a boyfriend like a _normal _person?"

"Sure, why not," Ludwig teased, shrugged, sat back in his chair. "Wait... I WAS NOT FLIRTING LIKE A LITTLE GIRL!"

Gil was laughing - cackling - before he even finished the sentence, holding his stomach, head thrown back over the top of the chair with mirth. The younger of the two narrowed his eyes and just watched him split his sides; his face was as annoyed as his tone, but inside he wanted to laugh with him. When the albino finally stopped laughing, caught his breath, he sighed and asked, "Well?"

"Well _what_?"

"How was it? I mean, he's a hooker, so it had to have been good," Gilbert was leaning forward with emphasis, eyes excited.

Ludwig dropped his fork. "I'm not talking about this."

"Aw, West, _c'mon_!"

"I'm _not _talking about this!" when did he start shouting? "It's not like I go around asking about your... escapades."

"You don't have to ask, you know I have sex all the time," Gilbert pointed at him with his fork. "You, on the other hand, never get laid. We need to remember this moment."

"Shut up, _arschloch_," the blonde chuckled, moment of tirade forgotten as a soft shade of red dusted his cheeks.

"Well, you won't have to hear me for long, I'm going out with Rod tomorrow night."

"You're still dating him?" Ludwig was reminded of a Roderich he'd dated in college - bastard - but there was no way it could've been the same guy.

"What, you think I can't hold a relationship?" the elder asked, a silvery-white brow arched, challenging. But then he just smiled. "Nah, I really like him. He can be really stuck up sometimes, kinda pretentious, but he's a lot of fun when he wants to be."

"That's nice. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, West," he smiled, genuinely, and it made Ludwig feel kinda good inside.

...

Arthur stopped at the corner of the block, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of a stop sign with a sigh.

He really needed to get his car fixed.

Appointments with Berwald (enter Sweden!), few and far between as they were, were always brutal. The stoic man had a powerful strength to his body; Arthur probably would've been sore for a few hours anyway, but walking home was murder on his tender nether regions. There wasn't much he could do about it, though, was there? His car was broken, he was a terrible mechanic, and he needed to keep working just to live, let alone pay for something so grand. There was no one he could go to get it fixed, either; he hadn't spoken to his brothers in years, and his only friend was his bunny, named Mint.

"... Arthur?"

He blew out a sigh. He _really _didn't feel like getting picked up by another client, not tonight. But he opened his eyes anyway, lifting them enough to look at the dark blue Audi pulled up to the curb in front of him, and the familiar blue eyes that were looking at him. "Hey, Lud."

"Do you need a ride?"

Arthur couldn't help but smile; he was so polite, it was adorable. "Yes, thank you."

Technically he was being a hypocrite; Ludwig was a client, who was picking him up. Tonight. But who cared, the man was nice and he offered. So he stopped thinking about it and got in the car, sitting down gently.

"Long night?" it was refreshing to have someone who seemed to understand, or at least recognize, the cons of being an escort.

"You have no idea."

"Why aren't you driving?"

Arthur sighed, slumping in the cool dark fuzz of the car seat. "I killed my car."

Ludwig chuckled, a warm little rumble that left the Brit's ears tingling a little. "Surely you couldn't have. It looked pretty new last time I saw it."

"It's a 2011."

"So how did you 'kill it'?"

"I have no bloody idea."

"I could take a look at it sometime, if you like."

Arthur should've gotten whiplash with how fast he turned to look at the other man. "You're a mechanic?"

"Damn good one, too."

"Really?" he was smiling, probably wider than he meant to, but what were the odds? Ludwig probably - _hopefully _- wouldn't charge as much as an official garage, so he might be able to afford it!

"Really. I'll look at it on Sunday, if you're okay with that."

"That would be perfect," he nodded and settled down lower in the seat, then realized that Ludwig had been driving this entire time. "Where are we going?"

"I was on my way to a bar. Want to come?"

Arthur pulled his jacket closer around him. "I don't do well with alcohol."

"I'm taking you home anyway, why not?" the taller blonde looked at him after slowing to a stop at a red light.

Think. Sigh. Why not, indeed? "Fine. Don't let me get drunk."

"I can do that," the light flashed green, bathing the dashboard in light, and they sped forward.

The bar wasn't what he thought it would be; he expected it to be in an alley, with a seedy little interior filled with smoke. Maybe he was watching too much TV, because it turned out to be a quaint, classy little pub; it probably passed for a normal restaurant by day. He didn't know why he ever thought otherwise for the Ludwig.

The German sat up at the bar, and Arthur sat next to him. After a few moments the bartender arrived, a freckled blonde with glasses and bright blue eyes.

"Hey, Ludwig, long time no see!" he was also loud.

The German in question reached over the counter to shake his hand, a smile on his face. "_Hallo_, Alfred. You know, get me a beer, and whatever my friend wants."

Alfred's eyes switched over to Arthur, who met his gaze evenly. But once the bartender's eyes roamed over the rest of his body the escort squirmed a little. "Well hello there," he purred, leaning forward on the counter. "What can I get for ya?"

Arthur sighed, shifting in his seat. "Scotch. Rocks."

"Will do," and he winked, actually _winked _at the Brit before walking away to retrieve their drinks.

"I think he _likes _you," Ludwig teased, pushing the Brit's shoulder playfully.

Sure, he was flattered, but "I don't date."

"Pity."

It was only a moment before Alfred was back, holding a brown bottle in one hand and a little glass in the other. "Alright, beer for Luddy, and scotch on the rocks for you," he sat the respective bottles on the counter and returned his attention to Arthur. "What's your name?"

"Arthur." the man in question mumbled, picking up his glass.

"My shift ends in half an hour. What will you be doing later?"

Arthur met his gaze evenly. "Not you."

Alfred laughed, a little nervously, and walked away, down to the other end of the bar.

"That wasn't very nice," Ludwig mumbled around the mouth of his beer bottle, eyes trained on England before he took a swig.

"I don't abide idiocy," he stared back, unforgiving, and sipped at his scotch.

The German chuckled. "He's not that bad."

Arthur just shrugged, and drained his drink. "Tell the git to bring another. I'll be right back."

The taller blonde chuckled and took another tiny drink of his beer, more or less nursing the bottle. He didn't necessarily have to, he could drink maybe six and be only slightly tipsy, but he was taking extra caution because he had to drive Arthur home. When Alfred passed by again he asked for the escort's refill, and upon providing it he stopped to ask a question.

"Is he taken or something?" Alfred inquired, leaning forward on the counter with a slightly offended look in his eyes.

Ludwig had to think about how to word it, "... More or less."

"Why didn't you warn me, dude!"

"It's not my fault you want to screw anything with an accent," he said with a smile, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

"Asshole."

...

A little over a half hour later a drunk Arthur was slumping against his German companion as he fumbled with his keys. It took quite a bit of time, but eventually he fell into the door, bodily shoving it open after unlocking it with the correct key. Ludwig felt kind of bad, he'd promised not to let the Brit get drunk, but he hadn't realized how positively shitty his alcohol tolerance was. Three rounds of scotch and half a beer later he was rather thoroughly _pissed_, and the German put the drinks on his tab before bringing Arthur out of the bar.

He followed England into his house, dead-set on making him go to bed because he wasn't sure how the Brit would act while drunk. He knew it could get pretty ridiculous - Gilbert, for example - and he honestly didn't want to have to deal with something like that.

"Hey, Arthur, don't you think you should go to bed now?" he suggested, trying to make this easy for them both.

Naturally, it didn't work. "It's not even midnight yet."

"You're drunk."

He grinned. "I know."

With a sigh Ludwig sat back on the couch. He wasn't leaving until he was sure Arthur was unable to do anything stupid to himself or others, as in asleep or at least unconscious. He vaguely noted that this wasn't the room he'd been in before; this was a dining room, evidenced by the kitchen running through it, and it seemed more lived in. The Brit was, at the moment, talking about a rabbit and how he had to feed it and Ludwig wasn't the slightest bit concerned until he saw the flash of a knife out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, panic seeping into his voice just a little.

Arthur smiled at him. "I've got to cut some carrots for Mint."

"_Nein_!" he shot up from the couch, making it around the counter and behind England in record-breaking time. "Give me the knife."

"No!" his entire face scrunched up into a frown, and he hid the knife behind him. "My knife!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur, just hand it over." Ludwig frowned too - not with his whole face, though - and leaned over the Brit. Maybe intimidation would get him to relinquish the thing.

"Nope," he grinned this time, widely, leaning back on the counter, and reached one hand up to poke him in the nose. He didn't pull his finger back, though; he trailed it up the bridge and across his forehead before opening his hand entirely to card through his hair.

"What are you doing?" Ludwig murmured, brows raised slightly in confusion at the sudden intensity of England's gaze.

Arthur smiled. "Your eyes are _pretty_," he commented matter-of-factly, tilted his head to the side a bit.

Uh... "Thank you...?"

The escort smiled all the wider, as if this amused him(it probably did; he was drunk, who knows what he found funny?) "You're welcome... And your hair is soft, too."

It was added last, almost like an afterthought, and Ludwig suddenly got the idea to use this to his advantage. He moved slowly, not letting his hand's reach for the knife show in the rest of his body, and just as he glanced down to make sure he wouldn't accidentally touch Arthur, the Brit said his name.

He never got to ask the "_Was_?" he had waiting on his tongue because England's _lips _were in the way.

His eyes flew open, shocked and confused, but he didn't really try to back away. Arthur's eyes met his evenly, slightly lidded and incredibly amused, before he closed them entirely and brought his arms up around the German's neck. Ludwig, in turn, opened his mouth against the Brit's, tongue snaking out to meet the other's. The kiss mostly tasted of alcohol but it was nice; even when drunk England was a talented kisser. His eyes were closed, palms flat on the counter, body leaned over that of the smaller blonde as they kissed softly.

Inside he was having a bit of a panic attack, he knew this was _all kinds _of fucked up and he didn't even know why he was doing it, but somehow he didn't care. It felt so natural, like something inevitable, so why not continue? There wasn't much time to do that, though, since his lungs finally decided that they needed air.

He pulled away, breath a tad heavy, and blushed furiously at the translucent thread that ran between their tongues. Arthur smiled, pecked his lips again, and when he pulled back the string was gone.

"That was nice," he sighed.

"_Ja_, it was." Ludwig murmured. He vaguely wondered what the _fuck _just happened, but couldn't bring himself to really pick it apart at the moment.

"I'm tired."

He chuckled. "Go to bed."

"Okay," his tone was light, sing-song, and he put the knife down on the counter. "Night, love."

Ludwig watched him walk around the counter and up the stairs, ran a hand through his hair in confusion. What was he doing...?

...

Arthur groaned before even opening his eyes. No more bars. No more alcohol. Dammit, isn't that what he'd said last time?

After a few - several - minutes he lifted his head, hair mussed and eyes bleary. There was something on his bedside table, underneath the lamp, and he strained to make it out... A bottle of aspirin. Glass of water. Note. After he took two of the pills, some blinking and more straining his eyes he could read the neat-yet-slanting handwriting.

Guten morgen_, Arthur._

_Just so you know, I cut the carrots for you, they're in a Ziploc in your fridge. I would've fed Mint myself, but I couldn't find it... Anyways, I had fun last night. I'm sorry I got you drunk, by the way, I had no idea your tolerance was so low. Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit touchy-feely when you're drunk? Because you are._

_The kiss was nice, though. It's a shame you don't date._

_~Lud_

Arthur blinked. Read it over. Blushed.

He'd kissed Ludwig? Wait, if he'd cut the carrots, he was in the kitchen... Jesus Christ, he'd let Lud into his _house_. He never let clients in past the living room, _ever,_ it was a rule of his because nothing good ever came of him blending _England _and _Arthur_. But Lud... Lud was nice. Tall, nice eyes, deep voice, polite, cute smile, not to mention the size of his -

_NonononoNO! Don't start, this isn't good, don't go there, you know you _can't...

Whatever. He had to feed Mint.

...

A/N: teehee :3 that was fun.

I refuse to translate _ja _and _nein _anymore, lol.

_Oh mein Gott:_ oh my God

_Was:_ what

_Gut:_ good

_Arschloch:_ asshole

_Hallo:_ hello

_Guten morgen: _good morning


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: glad you guys liked the last chapter. B3 now on to the next! Sorry I like dropped off the face of the earth. Life crushed my muse with a bunch of work, but I've nursed him back to health! :D

There's going to be an entire conversation in German here, and I don't feel like translating all of that, so when you see a whole portion of dialogue in italics, you're there.

And, apparently, I'm now the Germania of my little Hetalia group, so... yeah.

~Germania

...

The next night was quaint for Ludwig and Gilbert. Claus and Kurt decided to use the latter as a pillow while the two brothers lounged in the living room. Raven was off somewhere, as usual, probably sleeping. A pair of red eyes was stuck to American Idol, and a blue one was halfway through an old WWI book when the doorbell rang.

"You're boyfriend's here," Ludwig said, eyes never leaving the page.

"I don't... think... he's my boyfriend... yet," Gilbert grunted, trying to shove Kurt up off of his chest, but gave up quickly. "Can you get it? He's getting fat."

"Stop feeding him extra meals." but he sat his book down anyway, and got up off the couch. He brushed his hair back out of his eyes and straightened out his shirt, just because it wouldn't hurt to make a good impression on Gilbert's date.

There was no way he could've been prepared for who met him in the doorway, though.

Meticulously kept hair, black as the night sky behind him, with one curl that wouldn't ever lay with the rest of it. Lavender eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. Tiny little mole, below his lip on the left side. Nose thirty feet high.

_Fich._

Roderich Edelstein, his ex from fucking _college_, was dating his _brother_.

Ludwig's face fell completely blank, as opposed to the twist in the bespectacled man's brow. Roderich had actually opened his mouth to say something, expression still confused and extremely awkward, when Gilbert's footsteps announced his coming up behind his brother.

"So, now you've met Rod -" He broke off, eyes flicking between Ludwig and Roderich, taking in the tense situation. "What just happened?"

"We've met," the Austrian deadpanned, violet eyes never leaving Ludwig's face. "Are you going to let me in?"

The German did, and with a disgusted little sound he turned and disappeared down the hallway. Gilbert didn't see it, but he heard the door to his brother's room slam shut. That was when Claus and Kurt rushed up, growling at whoever _dared _invade their territory, and surrounded Roderich, noses twitching hurriedly against his clothes and shoes.

"They think they're the guard dogs," Gilbert tried to joke, but it was half assed; his mind was on his brother at the moment. The blonde was easily pissed off, that much was certain, but that was much more than his normal level of _pissed-off_-ness. What had happened?

"I see," Rod smiled, looking down as the dogs finally deemed him clear to stay and settled down at his feet. "Shall we be leaving soon? Movie starts at nine."

Gilbert looked back down the hall, brows knitted. "Yeah... I'll be right back."

Ludwig lay back on his bed, massaged his temples, let out a sigh because that _really _sucked. He hadn't ever wanted to see that stuck-up asshole again after college, but here was, at his damn door. There was no reason for him to try to break he and Gilbert up, however; maybe they would be able to stand each other. It would be good to see him happy, especially after that Russian he'd dated a few years ago...

The door opened, "Westen?" and closed.

"Was, _Gilbert_."

"_Are you alright_?"

Ludwig looked down the bed at his brother. "Ja, _I'll be fine. Go on your date_."

"_You act like you hate him. What happened_?"

"_Leave it alone, Gil_," the blonde groaned.

But Gilbert was undeterred, coming over to sit next to his brother. "_Tell_."

"_You do realize he speaks German, too_." Ludwig said flatly, "_If he's standing outside he'll understand everything._"

"_Don't care, just talk_." the elder threw right back.

With a sigh Ludwig began, "_Do you remember that semester my junior year when my grades dropped_?"

"Ja,_ I think you were more upset than Dad was_, _kesese~_"

"_I'm being _serious_, just listen_," the younger growled, and Gilbert's laughter fell silent. "_And, since you said that, you remember how important my grades were to me_."

"_Yeah, yeah, you nearly died when you got a D on a report card. What does this have to do with Rod_?"

Ludwig punched him this time. "_Shut up, stop getting ahead of me_."

"_Fine, fine_," the albino put his hands up in mock surrender, "_Keep going, I won't jump in_."

"_You better not. Now, that all happened after Roderich and I had dated and broken up_."

"_What, you were so heartbroken that you stopped caring about your degree? That's not healthy_."

"_I know it isn't, and that's not even what happened. _I _broke up with _him_, first of all_." Gilbert's brow rose, a silent _why_? "_He was kind of possessive, wanted to be involved with every part of my life. It was really creepy. But three, maybe four weeks after that, my papers started disappearing off of my laptop; days and days of work just... gone_."

"_How are you so convinced it was him? He didn't have access to your papers, did he_?"

"_Gil, he was my roommate. And he never did take rejection very well, so don't leave him_."

Gilbert turned to him, surprised. "_You want me to stay with him_?"

"_If he makes you happy, then yes_," he shrugged, "_Sure, he pisses me off, but there's no reason you shouldn't give him a shot_."

"_I thought you said he was creepy_."

"_He is, but you aren't writing any papers for him to destroy, so you should be fine_." Ludwig smiled.

"Arschloch," the elder growled, grinning as he punched his younger brother in the chest. "_Are you sure? I'd hate to do this if it bothers you_."

"Get out," the German commanded, switching back to English and sitting up to push Gilbert off of his bed. "I'll sick Raven on you if you don't leave right now, I swear."

"Okay, okay, kese~" Gil stood up, grinning ear to ear, and landed one more punch to his brother's chest before leaving the room.

Ludwig waited for him to leave before shouting out of the open doorway, "Don't make me beat you up in front of your boyfriend!"

"You wish!" and the front door closed.

Finally. Peace and quiet.

The thought of calling Arthur crossed his mind, but he thought better of it; it was a Saturday night, he was probably working. Besides, he'd see the Brit in the morning to work on his car.

So he sat back on the couch, turned off the TV, and picked up his book.

...

Arthur did _not _want to get up.

He'd had _five _clients last night - Feliks, Mathias, Romano, Saadiq, and Ivan. The (rather flaming) Pole had simply asked a blowjob of him, but the Russian had tied him up and fucked him _hard_. Honestly, the varying extremes were giving him whiplash.

His throat was sore and his ass hurt like hell.

He turned over in bed, curling in on himself, and let out a tiny little sob. Why couldn't all his clients be like... like Ludwig? He seemed to care a little, at least; it was like he appreciated Arthur for more than his ass. Other clients fucked him and left him; Lud actually let him enjoy the sex. It was something he hadn't experienced in a while – the first time he saw it as anything more than his job. He really hoped they could see each other agai –

… What was he doing?

He knew better than to get emotionally attached to a client, he promised himself he wouldn't. _Ever_. It was bad for business, bad for himself, bad for Lud. Honestly, who would want to date a hooker? That was why he didn't date in the first place; it was too painful a process for him to endure.

Speaking of which... Lud would be coming over later to fix his car.

And he was looking forward to it much more than he should've been.

With a low groan he lurched over the edge of the bed, landing haphazardly on his feet, and shuffled across the carpeted floor. The walk from his room to the bathroom - just down the hall - was murder on his abused nether regions. It took some time and a lot of effort, but he drew himself a warm bath and sank into it with a highly gratified sigh.

It was a long time before he realized that the water had gone cold. The tips of his fingers were doing a rather fantastic impression of a raisin, and his toes were beginning to follow suit. On a lighter note, the pain had receded a little, so it didn't hurt so much to move…

But his throat still hurt.

Great.

…

When Ludwig knocked on Arthur's front door he was greeted with such a dense silence that he thought the Brit may have forgotten him, or was still sleeping. He was actually about to turn and leave when the bolt _thunked_ and there was a slight creak as the door opened.

"Hey, Lud," England croaked, leaning against the door. There were dark lines below his eyes, making the green appear much more dull than usual, and in his left hand was a cup of what Ludwig figured was tea. The escort smiled a tiny, weary smile, and had tried to sound cheerful in his greeting, but the sandpaper tone of his voice ruined it.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig had to ask; the Arthur in front of him wasn't the Arthur that rode his lap a few nights prior, or the Arthur that he'd flirted with on the phone, or even the Arthur that had kissed him in the kitchen, drunk out of his mind.

But _this_ Arthur nodded. "Weekends are the bane of my existence."

"Do you want me to come back later, or…?" he began, but a shake of the blonde head in front of him led him to trail off uncertainly.

"No, I'm perfectly fine, don't worry about me," Arthur dismissed roughly, cleared his throat, "I just need a few dozen cough drops. Do you want to come in?"

Ludwig stepped inside the house that was now sort of familiar to him, taking off his shoes at the door and following the Brit to the couch. He'd set up a comfortable little environment for himself there, it seemed; there was a haphazard pile of blankets on it, obviously where he'd been laying, drinking his tea and watching TV. And the German didn't want to ruin his calm, so he sat in the chair adjacent to it.

"So what happened to you?" Ludwig asked, blonde brows pinched slightly, chin resting on his palm.

Arthur took another long sip of tea before staring at the taller blonde evenly. "I... earned a lot yesterday."

With a nod of understanding the blue eyed man stood up and started toward the door. "If you need to sleep, go ahead. I'll work on your car."

"Thanks," and that was a smile, a genuine Arthur smile, undiluted and completely pleased.

He really wanted to see those more often.

...

"Arthur." _shakeshakeshake_. "_Arthur_."

"Hnn...?"

"I need your keys."

"_Bowl_..." he slung a lazy arm in the direction of a shelf beside the front door.

"_Danke_." The presence that had been beside him disappeared, there was a little jingle and a door shut. Arthur brought his arm back under the covers and returned to warm, fuzzy darkness.

…

Arthur sat up, rubbing the bleariness out of one eye with the knuckles of his forefinger, and opened his mouth in a huge yawn. The lack of light streaming in between the open curtains informed him of the late hour, though he didn't much care how late, and the TV was still murmuring quietly in the background.

He hadn't felt so well-rested in weeks.

A feeling akin to gratitude brought a lazy smile to his lips, and he took a deep breath before lurching off the couch. His legs were numb, so his steps wobbled a little until the blood decided to return to them. His white shirt was crumpled up from his deep slumber, pinched and stuck in places, but he didn't really care; instead he stumbled over to the door and opened it, expecting to see Lud standing there next to his car with a self-satisfied grin on his face, maybe a few smudges of dark oil on his t-shirt and jeans and skin.

But there was no Lud.

And no car.

Ludwig stole his damned car!

Why the hell had he trusted that wanker? Mechanic or not, he'd only known the other blonde for a few weeks, and it wasn't like they were seeing each other all the time. Half the time the German's cock had been involved! How stupid could he have been, of course the pillock was only out for his car, he probably just fixed it up so he could take it and Arthur would never see him again! What the bloody _hell _had h –

His irate thoughts were interrupted when the very man he was fuming over drove the car – _his goddamned car – _into the driveway. Ludwig got out, straight, white teeth showing in a smile, and patted the top of his Mini Cooper. "Told you I could do it."

"Don't you 'told you' me!" he yelled, stomping down the stairs to the driveway and getting right in his face, totally disregarding the height difference. "What were you planning on doing with my car, hm? Were you going to sell it? Maybe keep it for yourself? Take it apart and sell the pieces?"

The German resisted the urge to yell back in indignation, settled for raising his brow instead. He took advantage of the pause in the Brit's tantrum and held up a finger, guiding him to just _shut up_ for a second, and went around to the other side, opening the passenger door and picking up the bags of Chinese food. When he showed what he had been doing, taking care to keep his mouth closed, Arthur's expression melted into one of guilt or regret or slight sheepishness, probably a combination of the three.

"_Oh_."

"You thought I stole your car." it wasn't even a question, and Arthur couldn't tell if that was a twinge of hurt in his voice or not.

"…I'm sorry," he finally sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his head, "I overreacted, it's just… I have a knack for losing my things."

"It's fine, I would've been worried about that, too." Ludwig shrugged and started up the stairs to the front door. "You were asleep, and I figured you would be hungry after working all night and sleeping all day, and who doesn't like Chinese?" 

"True," England smiled, and they went back into his house. Within the space of ten minutes they had integrated the German into his living space; the tea setting had been replaced by an expanse of paper bags and little white boxes and they were practically leaning on each other as they ate lo mein and watched random shows on television. Arthur still had the sheets tangled around his legs since it was a little chilly and he was only in his boxers and a tee, but Lud was comfortable in his cargo pants and black tank.

When his box finally emptied Arthur put it down on the coffee table and sighed, leaning against Ludwig's side. "How much do I owe you?" he asked, opening one eye.

"On the house."

The Brit blinked. "Come again?"

"You don't owe me anything," Ludwig reiterated, looking down at the other blonde. "I just did something nice for you."

"And then you bought me food," he pressed, feeling a little like a freeloader. He wanted to pay him _something_.

But Lud wove his way around that one, too, picking listlessly at his noodles with the chopsticks. "I bought _us_ food."

"You really don't want me to pay you anything? At all?" Arthur was genuinely confused; he'd always had to earn his 'gifts', his occupation besides. It was an odd feeling for him.

"_Nein, _not really…" he looked up thoughtfully, then smiled a little. "Well, there's one thing."

The escort didn't know if he was relieved or annoyed. If Lud wanted a blowjob or sex or anything of the sort he swore he'd rip his hair out. The German _knew_ what kind of Saturday he'd had; he really hoped that wasn't his request. But it turned out he was jumping to conclusions because before he could even process what was going on Ludwig had leaned over and _kissed him_.

He wanted to back away. He really did. This wasn't good, he couldn't kiss Ludwig because he was a _client_, he couldn't want this, this was _bad_, but… But he did want it, and he did kiss back because this wasn't just some client – it was _Lud._ Lud who cared and understood and put up with him while he was drunk and he deserved a kiss while he was sober, right? So his eyes fell shut and he opened his mouth to the warm thickness of the German's tongue, letting the slide of wet muscles take over his body with delicious heat. Ludwig smiled a little, he could feel it, and turned his British companion so it would be easier to delve deeper into the warm cavity of his mouth.

And it felt good, because this wasn't Ludwig kissing England, this was Ludwig kissing _Arthur_. He didn't have that used feeling he usually got when he was with someone, it was someone genuinely wanting to be in his company. His arms wound up around the German's shoulders, pulling him closer, and he was forced to swallow his moan when blunt fingers hit that spot on the back of his neck. This wasn't a sexual thing, it wasn't supposed to be; he was just happy to be wanted.

But nearly three years of working as an escort made him a little oversensitive, soon enough he had a warm lump in his boxers.

And when Ludwig leaned over him, putting him on his back on the couch, his knee brushed said lump and Arthur couldn't contain his gasp. The German chuckled, a humming, low sound, and his knee pressed lightly into the smaller blonde's groin.

"_Lud_," he whispered-growled-_moaned _into the kiss, hips arching against that pressure. He wasn't sure if it was against his will or not.

And that disturbed him.

This was bad, he _didn't date_, remember? This kiss shouldn't be happening; Ludwig really needed to stop kissing him so he could think _straight_, dammit!

When he did, a few moments later, Arthur didn't know whether to be disappointed or not.

He was faced with the same issue when Lud slid down his body, settling between his thighs.

"Is this okay?" the German asked, head tipped against his inner thigh, careful blue eyes meeting his green.

_Is it? _he had to ask himself, unsure. But he deserved it, and this had no emotional implications whatsoever, right? So he smiled a little smile and nodded.

Ludwig lowered his head, eyes still locked on Arthur's face, and nipped lightly at the base of his cock through his boxers. The way the Brit's face pinched - just a little bit - and that tiny gasp made him smile; a trail of lips and teeth made their way up the swollen underside of his shaft, up to the bulge of the head just barely cresting the waistband of his underwear. He hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled, slowly, ensuring that the fabric brushed against everything it could just because he wanted to hear that adorable little whine force its way up his throat. But when the erection rolled forward, thick and heavy, he spared no time in taking it into one hand and stroking it slowly.

Arthur sighed, biting his lip, and lay back on the couch. It was great to have someone else's hands on him, not seeking their own pleasure but for _his_. Ludwig's thumb swirled roughly over the head and he gasped, legs wanting to spread but unable to since his boxers were around his knees. And then there were lips, slightly chapped lips that pressed against the hot skin and parted, yielding to an even hotter tongue that left a wet trail up the length. Lud was teasing him, he realized, lapping at his cock with playful little kitten strokes, but once one crested the rise of his head his mouth sank down over the warm flesh and all Arthur could think was _hotwetmouthfuckYES_.

His hand slid into blonde hair, disheveling it a little with his desperate grasp, and he started pushing Lud's head down some because he needed _more_. The German's head bobbed faithfully, the pressure perfect and the barely-there scrape of teeth just bloody _amazing_. But it still wasn't enough; his fingers tightened their grip, trying to get the other blonde to stay the hell _still _as his hips lifted, seeking out more of that warm mouth for himself.

And Ludwig let him, because he figured Arthur might need this, someone willing to give him something instead of take it from him. He didn't mind being that person. In fact, he _wanted _to be that person, the one Arthur could count on not to hurt him, the one he could trust. He had to earn it, though, and he knew that; it would be effort well spent.

But it was hard to breathe around the Brit's girth so he pushed down on slim hips, having his own stay-the-fuck-_still_ moment and pulling away to cough awkwardly at the tickle in the back of his throat. There was a needy little quaver in Arthur's sigh.

"_Please_," he breathed, feeling vulnerable and open and a little scared because of it. It shouldn't have been okay that he wasn't afraid Lud would exploit that. But it was hard to even think about that right now; he was too preoccupied with don'tstopnow_please_. So when Lud returned to his task, eyes closing in concentration, Arthur had to try really hard to figure out what made him shudder so _hard_.

It was his tongue - no, wait, it was how his mouth flexed... maybe the way he used his _teeth_...

Or it was _how _he did all those things; like he was swallowing around a _lover_.

Fuck.

The pleasure took a back seat as he bit his lip, throwing his arm across his eyes as moisture began to gather there. This was _not _fair, for Lud to do this to him when he knew he couldn't have this. Rough, hard, emotionless sex he was fine with, and even the softer actions of a few clients were okay; the point was, he was used to being used. _This _was completely backwards.

It was the worst part - that, apparently, he cared for Arthur a little when Arthur couldn't afford to have anyone care for him. It was bad for him, bad for business, remember? He couldn't do what he did with emotional attachments.

Well, it was a little late for that, wasn't it?

And by the time he grated out a _stop _he was coming thickly down Ludwig's throat.

When he could finally breathe, could finally _think_, he released his tight hold in the other blonde's hair, swiping at the tears on his face in frustration. His chest was still heaving, but not because of the orgasm; he was looking at Ludwig's face when he sat up between the Brit's legs, eyes wide and threatening to spill over again.

Lud frowned, "Arthur?" and placed a soft hand on Arthur's knee.

He flinched away from the touch, panic sinking deep into his bones.

"Arthur... _Arthur_," the third time was something between a growl and a shriek, steeped with concern once he realized Arthur was hyperventilating. He took hold of the escort's hand, pulling him upright and pressing his head down between his knees.

"Just breathe, Arthur, slow, deep breaths… come on, calm down…" Ludwig's patient words cut through the haze of hysteria as his fingers knotted in the hair at the back of his head, chest heaving and compressing slower and slower as he took in large gulps of air. He squeezed his eyes shut, yanking half-heartedly at his hair because God _damn_ it he was crying again and this _wasn't fair…_

The German stroked the top of his head softly, long fingers gliding over Arthur's. "Better?"

The Brit nodded wearily, not bothering to wipe away the tears as they rolled down his cheeks. He didn't attempt to sit back up, either.

"What happened?"

Arthur sat still for a few moments, trying to decide how much he was going to tell him, how much it would hurt them both, whether he should tell him _at all_… and then he thought _Screw it_ and sat up, wiping the tears away with the heel of his hand. There was a humorless smile on his face – for what, he didn't know – and when he peered through his wet eyelashes the German was frowning.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, leaning in to kiss a tear-tracked cheek.

He ended up kissing a palm instead, and backed away, confused.

"No, you didn't, not necessarily," the escort murmured, still rubbing at his red eyes, "I think I'm the one who's done wrong."

Ludwig just looked at him, blue eyes pleading to understand, and Arthur thought he kind of looked like a puppy like that.

So he took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. "I don't think this was a good idea."

"This?"

"_This_," Arthur gestured between the two of them, trying to articulate whatever kind of relationship it was that they had unwittingly set up. "I know you've done some nice things for me lately, and I'm perfectly willing to pay you back, but I don't think we should see each other again."

The larger blonde's brows twitched just a little and he opened his mouth to say something, but the Brit cut him to it. "At all."

"… Why?"

And that was the question of the century, wasn't it? "Because you're a distraction for me. I can't work with you on my mind."

"I'm on your mind?" damn that smirk. Damn it to hell.

"That's _not_ the point," he growled, trying not to make this as upsetting as he hoped it wouldn't be. "I don't want to see you again."

And it must have sunk in, if his expression was anything to go by. The smirk melted into a frown, and the patch of skin between his eyes and brows tightened. "I see."

"Good." Arthur said, and that was it; he couldn't look at him anymore, not with that expression. As he turned away Ludwig got up to leave, picking up his empty boxes and tossing them in the trash can on the other side of the room before leaving.

He didn't even stop to say goodbye… but why would he have?

If this was so good for him, why did it hurt so much?

…

A/N: Augh, I can't even tell you guys how long it took to write this. Like, three weeks of on-and-off and writer's block ad other stories and *huff* I promise I'll be back on schedule soon. Next chapter includes more angst and brotherly bonding… Speaking of, I have to apologize for the whole first third of this; it seemed to make sense at the time…

~Dawn is Br3aking.


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